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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717006">For all the pain of love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeha/pseuds/Lumeha'>Lumeha</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mention Of Genocide, Spoiler for Rhea's backstory mostly, Spoilers, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:28:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeha/pseuds/Lumeha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thunderbrand was a Relic, held by one of Rhea's most loyal knights, a mark of respect and power.</p><p>Thunderbrand was a corpse, a memory, a sibling Rhea couldn't offer the rest they deserved in the Holy Tomb.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Catherine &amp; Rhea (Fire Emblem)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Calamity's Advent</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>For all the pain of love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This piece was written for the Invicible Zine Server's angst and horror themed zine, <a href="https://twitter.com/InvincibleZine/status/1290290668787695616">Calamity's Advent !</a> Don't hesitate to check it out, it's a free zine with a lot of amazing works</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rhea let her fingers run along the edge of Thunderbrand. Catherine always kept her Relic near her, even when fast asleep in the infirmary. Reckless, powerful Catherine, who once more had put herself in the line of danger for her. Of all the people to hold a Relic, she was the one with the most respect for the weapon. The most fire in her veins when it came to protect it. To protect her. </p><p>If only she knew, Rhea thought. Would she be horrified ? </p><p>(Or would she seek the power, like others before her did, the small, terrified voice at the back of her mind asked ?)</p><p>A knot tightened itself around her lungs, slow and cold, relentless like the march of time. She did not have the powers her mother had, could not stop the knight before she threw herself in the thick of battle, or reverse her wounds. She was not able to stop the world with a breath, force it back to rewind with the pulse of her heart. And even then, even with the powers at the tip of her fingers, Sothis was not always able to…</p><p>A quiet sob tore out of her throat. How many times had her mother gone back, again and again and again, when blood poured out and her children died around her ? How many times had she tried, one death after another repeated, avoided for a second before steel and greed tore through their flesh ? </p><p>
  <em> The sound of her steps echoes through the vast entry of the canyon. The air stills around her, silent. Where are the echoes ? The laughter, the children’s babbles, the songs ? Half a step behind, she feels Macuil tensing, the grip of his hand tightening on her shoulder to an almost painful point. And then, she spots it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Red, in the distance. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It starts with a trickle of blood.  </em>
</p><p>She wrapped her arms around the dull and lifeless Relic. How she wished to be able to give her sibling the rest they deserved, nestled with the rest of her family, safe in the Holy Tomb ! How she wished that the bones echoed with her blood, that she could fan the orange glow, breath a single drop of life, for one moment, let them sing with their heart.</p><p>Only humans had that power. </p><p>
  <em> The smell is unbearable. It seeps into her every pores, settles under her skin. Her and Macuil’s footsteps squelch, the humid echo reverberates against the stones, and comes back to them, tenfold, and it hits her in the throat. She hears Macuil heaves.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tears gather at the corner of her eyes, from her strangled lungs and her wailing heart, the hollow air of the once lively city. No one answers, no one calls for help. Silence is all that talks to them, silence and the sound of blood under their heels. </em>
</p><p>Curled on herself, she didn’t hear Catherine move. On her tongue, she tasted the iron in the air, the burn of the past. She wished that her too tight grasp on the blade was cutting into her flesh, blood beading at her hands and arms, a flash of pain coursing like lightning through her veins. To feel alive, to whisper to the corpse in her arms that peace was close, that their family was waiting for them, deep under the mountain, where hearts beat and their Mother’s throne waited for her to come back.</p><p>“Lady Rhea…?”</p><p>The hesitant voice didn’t make her react. It was the hand. The hand, the touch lightning up the Relic, the Relic, her sibling, her poor sibling…</p><p>The name escaped her. </p><p>
  <em> It is a vast sea that drowns Zanado.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The blood, so red, on the pale brown of the canyon. The blood, so dark, against the mutilated scales and wings of their siblings. The blood, so powerful, that strangles her with rage and grief, and she swears on all the stars in the sky and beyond, on the name of her beloved Mother, that this will not go unpunished. </em>
</p><p>The name escaped her, and no one was ever going to give it back. They were Thunderbrand, they were Charon, their heart named after their murderer, and it was a second death that hit Rhea in the chest, stole her breath and silenced the grieving wail blooming on her tongue. Her sibling... her sibling, once more erased from history and memory. Her sibling, only a hasty sketch in her mind, whose details had turned blurry with time, and she wasn’t able to remember, neither name nor face. </p><p>Her throat tightened, painful, the weight of her promise sharp and too heavy on her tongue. </p><p>“Lady Rhea !”</p><p>A pair of hands on her face, and their touch was light, afraid of breaking her. She raised her head, and, for a split second, for a suspended moment of hope, she saw another in place of Catherine. Loyal, devoted Catherine, her hands so warm on her skin. The light of Thunderbrand sent orange reflects along her jaw, in her eyes, and the sight set Rhea’s teeth on edge, the urge to stand and fight almost overwhelming. </p><p>“Lady Rhea, please.” </p><p>
  <em> Charon, his laugh high and fragile as glass, looking down at her and Indech. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Charon, his eyes wild, despite the mask, orange flames licking the metal, and the smell of bodies burnt by lightning, the smell of blood, the smell of rage. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Charon, how he falls, arrows stuck in the slit of his twisted face. </em>
</p><p>But it was Catherine. Catherine, who left her family and threw her name aside. Catherine, Catherine, <b>Catherine</b>.</p><p>The air of the room was too thin, too tight, and the concern of their murderer (no, not their murderer - no, no, <em> no </em> , Catherine, <em> not Charon </em> ) too hard to swallow. Rhea barely registered the way the knight stumbled back as she stood up, Thunderbrand dull and lifeless again in her arms. Nothing made her react, shook her out of the memories, out of the grief as she cradled a corpse no one recognized as one. The sound of doors opening on her way or the calls of garbled, distant voices didn’t make her turn back as she walked out of the infirmary, out of the building, out, <em> out, </em> <b> <em>out</em> </b>. </p><p>
  <em> In the Holy Tomb, on her knees, Macuil’s and Indech’s hands on her shoulders, she cries, for what she hopes is the last time.  </em>
</p><p>In the Holy Tomb, on her knees, she found her voice again, a scream ripped out of her throat, a lament for memories and corpses that she never was able to save. </p><p> </p>
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